On Blistered Feet
by Cameo Moon
Summary: Being anorexic and being a mutant is a deadly combination. But Nothing in life is coincidental. Actions of the past have a nasty habit of showing up and hurting not only you, but those you love. Formerly ‘Damnit, I’m Trying!’
1. Prologue pt1

You can skip the first two parts if you like, they're just a prologue. The story starts (in the present time) at the third part, but I this is a little bit of background I thought was missing when I started this story before. This will probably end up as a Logan/OC some time in the near future.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Xmen or anything affiliated with them. Haven't we been through this already?

Here I am, starting this again. I'm changing quite a bit here, though keeping a lot of the basic background information I used in 'Damnit, I'm Trying'. The rest? Is a whole other ballgame. Starting with a flashback, how the chain of problems started when she was a child, when everyone thought it was a solution…

Reviews and constructive criticism are always loved, appreciated, and worshiped!

* * *

**Fourteen years ago, March 16th 1992... **

"Have you even heard of this doctor, Jared?" Miriam looked down at her unconscious daughter, brushing a strand of strawberry blonde hair away from her face.

Her husband stood at the window on the far side of the room, staring at the scene reflected behind him, in its darkened mirrored surface.

Alicia had been admitted to Miami Children's Hospital three days before, sicker than she had ever been, even in this difficult year.

It started slowly. The illness seemed relatively minor- the first doctor had diagnosed the young girl's stabbing belly pain as appendicitis. Closer inspection had found something with much more dangerous ramifications.

Her internal organs had started to mutate, seemingly without purpose. Miriam knew her daughter was a mutant. Just like she was, her grandmother before her, and her great grandmother before her. Four generations of mutants.

But physical mutations? No one in the family had ever encountered those before.

Negative mutations. They happened all the time, but no one talked about them. Most people were afraid enough of those who had control over their abilities. What would they care about one mutant child who's genetic structure would kill her?

Well, Miriam cared. What mother wouldn't? But for that reason, she kept her own abilities secret. They were shameful and impure. They were nothing but a hindrance.

And now they were killing her daughter.

"What other choice do we have?" Jared turned to face his wife, taking the few strides it took to close the distance between them.

His daughter. A mutant. He hated the very concept of mutation.

Not because they were different, not because they were dangerous, but because mutant DNA had left his only child in a hospital bed, too small and too thin under a mass of Ivs, beeping monitors, and an oxygen mask.

Because it drained the spirit out of his wife, leaving her with deep circles under her eyes, making her seem much older than her thirty seven years.

Despite the fact that he himself was a doctor, this was so far out of his area of expertise. He dealt with quadraplidrics on a daily basis, made life altering diagnostics that decided whether or not a person would ever walk again- but he was clueless about how to save his own daughter.

No one knew how to deal with 'the mutant problem' within the constructs of society, let alone in the medical field. There was no standard of care when it came to mutants, because there were no standard mutants. It was too unpredictable.

When one mysterious doctor had stepped in and claimed that he could save Alicia with a single surgical procedure, it seemed too good to be true.

Miriam had her misgivings about the situation. The name was familiar to her somehow, and left her with a distinctly uneasy feeling. When she tried to reach out telepathically to figure out who the man was, she found nothing. Literally nothing- not a thing to prove or disprove her unease.

When Alicia's acting physician, Dr. Kullson had mentioned the possibility of a little known, but extremely talented surgeon who had offered to take her case, Jared had jumped the gun and signed the release forms before telling his wife the scant details he had received.

It had seemed odd that he refused to have a pre surgery consultation, but he claimed to have all the information he needed about the girl's medical history. Jared wondered briefly how he had come across those records- privacy laws non withstanding, but dismissed it.

That this man should coincidently choose to appear just in the nick of time to save her suggested that perhaps there was something unsavory going on. But if he could save her life, her father would be willing to look the other way on certain issues.

Whether or not his wife agreed to it.

But knowing there were no other options, she did agree. The mother in her could not condemn her daughter to certain painful death.

So they had come to one conclusion: with no one else to turn to, they would leave their daughter, Alicia Rosen, in the capable hands of Dr. Nathaniel Essex.


	2. Prologue pt2

QueenieMeanie: Thank you so much for the review! I admit, the first part was a bit too short, but this one is twice as long, so hopefully that's a bit of an improvement. :D

**AN: **I had a second chapter up yesterday, but as you can see, this is quite different from that. I decided I needed to give a little more background before I jumped into current time. So here's that. I'm going to use what I had up yesterday (I think), but that's going to go through some massive overhauls too. What can I say, I'm getting picky in my old age. :p

* * *

**One Year Later…**

It seemed like a miracle. With one surgery, Alicia's internal organs had stopped mutating. The damage had not been reversed, but it seemed that her body had adjusted to whatever changes it had made.

Dr.Kullson gave a sigh of relief as he watched the small red headed girl skip out of his office, holding her mother's hand. If all things stayed on their current track, this would be the last appointment on the case.

It wasn't that he didn't like the child or her family, but the circumstances surrounding her were simply too strange for their own good.

Mutants always made for odd cases. He liked working with them, it created a challenge. As far as he knew, he was the only doctor in the hospital that worked exclusively with mutant children.

The Rosen case had seemed hopeless. It didn't mean he would have given up on her, but he was almost at giddy as her father had been when an opportunity had availed itself. Dr.Kullson was forever being chided by his peers for becoming too attached to his patients, but he always figured it made him more attuned to their needs.

But when it came to Dr. Essex… well, Kullson could not deny that the man was brilliant. He was also unnerving, with his odd requests and inability to take no for an answer.

Under normal circumstances, he would not have agreed to work with him. But it seemed there was no other option, as there was nothing he himself could do for the girl. When her parents had agreed, it was officially out of his hands.

The strange doctor had sent in his own small staff to assist him, as he was informed the morning the procedure was to be performed, and Dr.Kullson's presence would not be needed. As an effect, he had never actually met the man. It had angered him, but he could not deny that whatever was done to her had worked.

In their final correspondence, Dr. Essex had left one final instruction: it was imperative that Alicia Rosen's body never be allowed to enter a starvation state.

This had struck Dr.Kullson as odd. Starvation wasn't good for anyone, but most of the time it wasn't lethal if it was stopped quickly enough.

The African-American doctor had seen some strange things in his dealings with mutant children though. But in this day and age, living in the United States of America, he thought starvation would never really be an issue. However, he figured it couldn't hurt to pass the word along to her parents.

Either way, Alicia Rosen was no longer his patient. He wished her nothing but the best, but was quite glad that her well being was out of his hands.

* * *

Miriam smiled as she watched her six year old daughter swinging in circles on the tire swing that hung in the middle of the massive playground.

Her giggles were music to her mother's ears. One year ago, she didn't know if Alicia would be alive at this point. She had been so fragile, internal organs mutating completely out of control, so very sick that had refused to even eat near the end.

And now here she was, running around the park on a sunny afternoon with the energy and enthusiasm only children who don't have a care in the world could muster.

She'd be seven soon, and Miriam couldn't help but wonder what a miracle this had been.

Alicia stopped her swinging when she saw a girl a few years older than her sitting by a ficus, playing with the flowers that grew in between its hanging branches.

Her name was Christy, and she was sad.

Alicia didn't know how she knew this, she just did. She didn't look sad though, and this confused the younger girl.

Hopping off the tire, she ran up to the other girl.

"Why are you sad?" Alicia asked, climbing on one of the sprawling roots as she spoke.

"Who are you?" She looked up through her long brown hair, annoyed for having been interrupted in the midst of creating her flower chain.

"I'm Alicia, you're Christy, and you're sad."

"Am not!" She went back to her periwinkles, but her curiosity had been piqued. "How do you know my name?"

"I dunno. I know things." The redhead shrugged, jumping from root to root.

"Like what?"

"You're sad because your daddy went away. But don't worry, he'll come back tonight. He'll bring chocolate ice cream for you and flowers for your mommy."

Christy's mother had hard the conversation between the two, and started to approach, but Miriam rushed over to her daughter, pulling her away while murmuring her apologies for her daughter's behavior.

Alicia did not go quietly. Her mother figured she wouldn't, but it was better to get her out of the way before she exposed herself for what she was.

Not that she would ever use the 'm' word to refer to her daughter, but she was special. Just like she was, but she was too young to understand that one could not run around flaunting telepathic abilities. If she even comprehended what they were in the first place.

"Mommy! What are you doing? She needed help! She was sad, but she didn't have to be 'cause everything was going to be ok!" She whined as her mother pulled her back to their car.

"What have I told you about telling people what's going to happen to them?" Miriam had given this lecture many times, but Alicia simply did not comprehend how important it was to quash abilities like this.

"That people don't like it. But Mommy, you always say that. I can help them though! Make them happy!" The girl didn't understand why she got so mad when she did things like this. In school, her teacher had said you should always try to help people when you could. Why didn't her mother agree with that?

"Alicia! You will not make them happy, you will make them angry." Unmentioned was the fact that behind that anger was fear. When people were afraid, they lashed out. Even at six year old girls.

"It's not fair" The girl pouted as she ran to the passenger side of the minivan and crossed her arms.

Miriam closed her eyes and sighed. She would not get angry, allow herself to loose her temper with her daughter in a public place. Crouching down in front of her daughter, she pulled her into a hug.

No, it was not fair. Life was not fair.

But they could pretend it was, and that was as close as they were going to get. She had been the same way at Alicia's age, until her mother showed her the error of her ways.

If one ignored their mutant abilities, it was almost as though they went away. No one ever had to know the truth, and you could nearly forget it yourself.

Miriam winced as some unseen force pressed against her mental shields, and promptly ignored it.

Delusion becomes reality if you believe strongly enough.

"Sweetheart, what's this?" She had been running her fingers through her daughter's hair, when she noticed the roots had started growing in a different color.

"What's what?" Alicia stepped away from her mother and look up at her inquisitively.

"Nothing dear, it's nothing." She forced an uneasy smile. "Let's go home, hmm?" Her hands had started to tremble slightly as she unlocked the car's doors and started the engine.

Alicia hopped in, and looked at her, face taking on the expression she usually got when trying to read people.

Miriam hadn't noticed it, lost in her own thoughts.

Children's hair color changed as they got older. She had always expected the strawberry blonde hair Alicia had been born with to eventually turn auburn, just as hers had. And these new roots were indeed a darker shade of red.

However that shade of red was not natural.

Maybe it was a phase, perhaps it would change again.

"Mommy?" the girl was now staring at her mother, even more confused than she had been earlier.

"Yes sweetheart?" She kept her eyes on the road and tried to sound as light hearted as possible, despite her worries.

"Why do you act happy when you're really feeling sad?"

It had been a simple question, but it hit her like a bullet. She had no explanations for her daughter. All she could do was raise her to be as normal as possible, and repress all signs of mutant ability. It seemed this was going to be a more difficult thing to do than she thought.

She had no idea what was to come.


	3. Ch1 No Good Deed

AN: Back again! Just a note of warning: Alicia's reasoning is quite flawed in this chapter. It probably will be for some time to come. I did this on purpose- anyone who's dealt with eating disorders in the past will tell you that it does strange things to your logic. And how suddenly, starvation seems to be the answer to all of your problems…

Also, if anyone is reading this, review and let me know what you think! Concrit is a wonderful thing. Even just dropping a note to tell me that your fourteen year old drunken Chihuahua could write a better story, let me know. I have cookies, chocolate, and spare kidneys for anyone who does! ;p

* * *

_**In life as in dance: Grace glides on blistered feet. –Alice Abrams **_

**Present Time…**

_The field was dark, foreboding in an unnatural way. It was barren, save for the tall, dry grass that blew across it in the wind. Clouds had started to gather, casting the entire area in an eerie yellow-grey light._

_I wondered what I was doing in the middle of nowhere, when it hit me that this was one of those not quite dreams. Someone was trying to contact me, and I had to figure out why. _

_To my left there was a pile of wooden construction boards that had been weathered into a sorry splintered state. From where I was standing, I could see a small pair of legs sticking out from under the pile. _

_Dear God, not another one of these…_

_I fought the urge to wake myself up and forget that these sort of horrible crimes happened all too often. How many times had I done just that so I could continue to live out the illusion of a peaches and cream reality? The guilt weighed on me. _

_Eventually I knew I'd have to do the right thing, even if I didn't really want to. _

_Coming around the far side of the pile, I saw the form of a young boy solidify in front of me. He was about four years old, blonde and sunburned. The black pants and long sleeved red shirt he was wearing had seen better days. His back was to me, and he should have been staring at his own body._

_He would have been, if there had been a head on his shoulders. _

_If I moved the planks of wood, his body would have been in the same condition. There was no suppressing the shudder that passed through me at that realization. _

_The poor little boy was lost, lingering on because his family had no idea what had become of him when he went missing three weeks ago. But what could I do? There was the possibility that this child wasn't even aware that he had passed._

"_I know I'm dead." He spoke, head solidifying as he did so. Turning around to face the me, his eyes were expressionless. _

"_Then go to the light." It was a knee-jerk reaction for me. I had no idea if it actually did anything, if there was light for these spirits to go into, but I did know there was no reason for them to stay here. _

_Just because I can see the spirits, and they can find me, didn't mean I knew what to do about it. _

"_Tell them where I am." The boy's voice was strangely monotone._

"_Where are we?" It was obviously a field, but there were hundreds of those in the city. Thousands even. It didn't do much to narrow down an actual location._

"_Here." He said, disappearing as abruptly as he had appeared. _

* * *

I woke up with a start, heart thudding dully in my chest as I looked around my semi darkened bedroom. It had been two weeks since I had returned home from college for the summer, having completed my second year at university.

I still halfway expected to wake up in the tiny closet they called a dorm room, but was briefly surprised to wake up in my familiar childhood bedroom.

That kid's voice was still rattling around in my mind. If I recalled correctly, he'd been in the news lately. Really… couldn't he have chosen to reveal himself to someone who knew what they were doing?

Spirits trying to contact me was nothing new, but it didn't happen all that often. Most of the time I didn't pay any attention to them. Why should I? I was living, and they were dead. And the way they did it I could live without. The amount of detail in these dreams was disturbing. If I tried to recount them later, I'd be able to recall details I hadn't even remembered seeing the first time around.

Funny how that worked, I did the same thing when I was awake too. Telepathic and empathic abilities wove themselves so seamlessly into my everyday functioning, I had a hard time telling what was general knowledge, and what was knowledge I'd gained from my abilities.

But right now I had more important things on my mind.

Showering.

Getting dressed.

Avoiding breakfast.

So sue me, I'm not exactly the good summation of the year. Let's say I did call the police and tell them what I'd seen. How was I supposed to explain where I got the information from?

I'd basically been taught to ignore my abilities from as far back as I can remember, and that all things mutant were to be politely shunned. I didn't exactly agree with the sentiments, but I could see where they were coming from. Running around proclaiming one's mutant status was the quickest way to get yourself shot around here, so I kept to myself for the most part.

Even if that meant avoiding situations where I could have helped people. It was something I'd always felt guilty about, and had thought about changing if the situation ever came about again. Well lucky me, it looked like it had. All I had to do was make a decision…

Eh, later. I'll decide later.

Padding down the hallway, I came out to the kitchen, where my mother was on the phone.

"Oh you should see her now!" My mom said to my grandmother. "She's so tall, so skinny- looks like one of us finally beat the family genetics." She smiled at me.

I tersely returned the smile, pouring myself a cup of coffee. Sitting down at the table, I reached for the morning paper. My mother scrunched her nose at me, she never did understand how I could stomach black coffee.

"Oh yes, it seems that college has really changed her. No, I don't know if they've given her any problems with _that_, but she's always dealt with it pretty well. She's had to since she was six after all… Yes, I know the people up there don't tend to be very open minded, but she copes. But really mom, you should see her now! No more baby chub, just skinny and beautiful for once!"

Right mom. Good to know you have your priorities straight.

"For diner? We're going to Golden Corral. Right, they opened a new one right down the street- the buffet is so much better than before, oh you should see their dessert spread."

'_There's no way I'm going to diner _THERE_. Too much food.'_ I said to my mother telepathically. Why my family seemed to be so obsessed with food was beyond me.

She glared at me.

'_You know I don't like it when you do that.'_ She chastised me.

'_I told you I don't like eating at buffets. No one needs that much food.' _I sipped slowly at my coffee.

'_Not_ THAT_. If you want to discuss our diner plans, you can wait until I'm off the phone. Communicating like this is unnatural.' _"Oh what was that? Sorry mom, I dazed off there for a second. Of course I'm listening to you" My mother glared at me again.

'_I'm not going tonight, I have plans.' _I walked out of the kitchen, cup still half full, and sent her a headache.

There'd probably be hell to pay for that little exchange later, but I didn't feel like dealing with it. Once upon a time she considered me her little miracle child. At nineteen, we could hardly speak without having an argument. My, how times do change.

* * *

"Just where do you think you're going?" My mother asks me as I'm about to head out the door.

"To dance. I wanted to get a few more classes in before my auditions." Because the fact that I have my hair in a bun, a pair of jeans over a leotard, and a massive dance bag over my shoulder didn't make it obvious enough.

"Have you managed to find yourself a job yet?" She's standing two feet away, with her hands on her hips.

"No, but what do you think these auditions are?" You know, the thing I've been training for since I was seven years old, the thing I'm going to college for…

"I mean a real job."

"Like a desk job." Like the type she had perhaps?

"Or retail, or bagging groceries, just something so you can carry your weight around here." She's been after me about this since the moment I came home.

"If these auditions work out, I'll be more than able to do that." As soon as I did that I'd also be moving out of this place, not that I'd mentioned that yet.

"And if they don't, then what? You need a _real_ job." Her faith in me touches my heart.

"I've been trying to find job, but for some odd reason whenever I come around, no place is hiring." Leaving now would be a good idea…

"That's bullshit. Everyone else you know has a job, there are 'Now Hiring' signs right and left. I refuse to keep someone like YOU around for any longer than is absolutely necessary. I left my parents when I was seventeen, you should be lucky that I gave you another couple years." She's not yelling, but speaking in that hushed voice that's a thousand times worse.

"I told you I've been trying. But these people take one look at me, and it's 'No, all positions are filled' or maybe 'We're accepting applications, but all summer positions are taken.' But that's only if they're being nice. This section of town hates anyone that's not just like them, so I'm out before I even walk in the door." I said, exasperated.

"You can fix the problems with how you look. You've already started. But I've had enough of your excuses. Fix yourself, THEN go looking for jobs. I swear, I though you were smart." And she has officially entered 'holier than thou' mode.

"Stop light red hair and orange eyes can look a bit intimidating on an otherwise pretty face _mother. _As for 'fixing' my problems, you know that dye doesn't work, and that contacts bother my eyes. I may have begun to 'fix' myself by loosing weight, but really mom, what I've done isn't worth it." Goddamn, I hate it when she does this.

" What, have you gone anorexic again?" She asked, half scared, half smirking.

"No, of course not." It's an automatic response to that question- I've been getting it a lot lately.

My mother snorted.

"I've just grown a few inches, that's all." Well it was the truth- I'd gone from being 5'2 to being 5'8 within the last year… and had my eyes change a bit. Ok, more than a bit. But really, who's keeping track?

"And become a freak. You can pull off your look well. But none of it is natural. You have to hide them if you want a normal life in this world." Says the all American looking woman.

"That's easy enough for you to say, you look normal. But coming from a fellow mutant, coming from my _mother- _one might think you'd be a bit more understanding." We've had this argument before. Many, MANY times. Mental shields up on my side.

"How dare you call me a… a… one of those!" Mental shields up on her side.

How predictable.

"How dare I? You ARE one mother. Say it with me: mu-tant, it's not that hard, really. And while you may be able to deny what you are, I can't. I am trying to make my way as dammed well as I can, but in this reality, it's not an easy thing to do. Never has been, and for all of the advantages I've been given, all of the advantages I have, I have a few disadvantages that make all the difference in the world. Those few 'problems' that outweigh everything that's good in me to those who would never give me a chance _because_ of them." I paused, opening the front door to step outside, trying to calm myself and collect my thoughts. "I don't know how to convince you, but I _will _turn out okay."

God, I've wanted to say that for SO long.

I ran to my car, unlocked the door, and started the engine as quickly as I dared. Turning on the engine, I raced away without looking back.

For once I had been brave enough to express my opinion, but it didn't mean part of me wasn't afraid of her. Untrained telepathic abilities can be very dangerous, especially when there's power behind it. Long story short, it has a tendency to make one mentally unstable. Especially when you've been dealing with it for forty years. When my mother lost her temper, it was literally painful for me. She had no idea- not that she'd be able to control it even if she did.

I never knew what to do about it, so I did the only thing possible. I left until it was safe to return. If there was ever really such a time.

* * *

Pulling into the parking lot of the Miami City Ballet, I looked at the post it note I had stuck to by bag before I left the house. I had jotted the number for the police tip line down on it, and promised myself I would call if I got to ballet early.

Well, I had half an hour until the class was scheduled to start, and that left me plenty of time to call.

The yellow paper was taunting me. It was now or never.

Digging my cell phone out of my purse, I dialed the number before I had a chance to change my mind.

"City of Miami Police Department, how may I help you?" A tired female voice asked, sounding slightly distracted.

"I'd like to call in a tip on the kidnapping case of Shawn Lopez." My heart was racing, and I hoped my voice wasn't shaking too much.

"One moment please." That had definitely caught her attention.

I could hear voices on the other end, but I couldn't make out what they were saying.

"Please miss, what information do you have? Please give us as much detail as you can." I had been transferred to someone else, and I had the inkling the call was being recorded.

"I don't know how to say this…" My hands had started trembling.

"It's ok, just tell me what you can." His voice was authoritative, attempting to sound soothing,

"Shawn is dead. He's buried in a field in west Kendall, no I don't know exactly which one it is, it's just a big empty field with overgrown grass. There's a pile of construction boards, and he's under that. I think… I think his head may be cut off. I'm sorry, I am so sorry, I… I…" I had gone from rambling to nearly crying.

"Can you tell us what the child looked like?" His tone had become sharper.

"He was maybe four or five, with dark blonde hair. He was wearing a long sleeve red shirt and black pants that were kind of dirty."

There was an awkward silence, something was going on, and it was not a good thing. "How did you come by this information?"

"I'm sorry, I can't say." I should have known better, oh God I was such an idiot.

"If you tell us who you are, there's a possibility of a reward." He was fishing for information, he wanted to know who I was. He couldn't possibly think…

"I can't take money for letting the boy's parents know he's dead. I'm sorry." I hung up and dropped let the phone fall to the bottom of my bag.

That had been more unnerving than I thought it had been, but at least I had done it. For whatever it was worth, whatever it would do, it did not make me feel any better. But if it could bring closure to that poor boy's parents, than I suppose it was worth it.

Trying to push all of this behind me, I got out of the car and headed towards the building.

Open classes at the Miami City Ballet were an entity all their own. I used them to supplement classes when I was away from school, and had been doing so for years. The people knew me here, and I counted myself lucky to be able to take classes in such a world class facility from such excellent teachers.

The building itself was massive. From the sprawling lobby and boutique, to the upper levels of offices and seldom used studios, to the eight looming studios that lay beyond the lobby. The latter of those was my destination.

Jogging up the steps, I pranced through the glass doors and headed to the security desk.

"My god, it's a mirage!" Frank, the portly security guard grinned at me. "We thought you'd died."

If I missed so much as one class, that was the response I got from him. I'd been gone for several months.

"I was at school, I told you!" I laughed, signing my name on the roll sheet.

"How ya been kid? Have they been feeding you?" I raised an eyebrow, looking me over.

"I dropped a few pounds to help my dancing." Working at a ballet company, he had to understand the mentality.

"Did it work?" He looked in my eyes for the first time, and seemed slightly startled.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." Looking away, suddenly turning my eyes downcast.

"Your eyes always been like that?" He knew I was a mutant, but it never seemed to bother him or anyone else here. They knew me for me, and I was always appreciative of that.

"No, but honestly Frankie, does it matter?"

"Guess it doesn't. Have a good class." He grunted to himself, and leaned back in his chair.

I knew no one here would judge me by my appearance, but it didn't mean they wouldn't at my upcoming auditions. Balletic body type aside, I prayed they'd take into consideration that my unusual coloring wouldn't be all that noticeable from the stage.

To make up for my freakishly red hair, I decided earlier this year that I needed to be as thin as possible. Somewhere along the line my body had gotten its signals crossed, and my eyes had gone from brown to bright orange. Believe me, I was not amused.

But then I came to one brilliant conclusion: If starvation had brought about one physical change in me, it might bring about another.

If I kept at it long enough, I might very well be able to starve these physical mutations away completely.

Sure, my telepathy and empathy were currently a lot weaker than they'd been in the past, but they were still there. Even if they were acting strangely.

I could have taken the cure, but that would have gotten rid of those too. When it came down to it, I wanted to keep those advantages. But the physical mutations? They had to go.

The human body is strange like that- become physically deprived enough, and the body will turn on itself.

I had to be careful, oh so careful. But I was in control. I would do this for myself, for my future. I would unmutate myself.

Gliding through the huge double doors that separated the lobby from the studios, I brushed past the dressing rooms and down the dimly lit hallway to studio four.

The world of barres, marley floors, rosin boxes and mirrors brought a genuine smile to my face. I was home.

People stretching, talking, faces new and old looked up as I came in, and welcomed me. I wasn't a mutant here, I was a fellow dancer.

I had been stupid to be paranoid about the consequences of one insignificant call to the police. I had done the right thing, I had nothing to be afraid of.

After all, what was the worst that could happen?


	4. Ch2 What You Don't Know

All things considered, the ballet class had gone well. I did manage to bruise the big toe nail on my right foot doing Pointe work.

It probably meant I was anemic again. There were a few close calls with nearly passing out, but I danced through them like always.

Common sense told me it meant I should eat _something_, but I was twistedly proud of having gone all day AND a two hour ballet class on nothing more than a diet pill and a cup of black coffee. My stomach hurt, but it was worth it.

I had to remember the cause.

Throwing a pair of jeans back over my sweaty dance clothes and slipping into a pair of sandals, I headed back down the hall, only to see Frank coming towards me from the direction of the lobby.

"You know there are some cops out there who want to talk to you?"

I blanched and looked sharply at him at the same time. I knew he could be a joker sometimes, but I could tell by the look on his face he was being one hundred percent serious.

"What did they tell you?"

"Something about having some questions for you about the Lopez kidnapping" His New York accent was stronger than usual.

"How did they find me?" I was asking myself more than Frankie.

"What do you have to do with that? I think they got it all mixed up." Anger was rolling off of him in waves.

"God, Frankie, I was an idiot. I called in a tip, but I never told them who I was. Let alone where I was." Perhaps my paranoia hadn't been unwarranted after all…

"They knew who you were when they came lookin' for ya. Had a file and everything."

"That doesn't make sense!" If they knew who I was before they came looking for me, and they already had information gathered, there had to be something bigger going on.

"Look kid, I never asked you about what you can do. Figured it was enough you told me you were a mutant, it wasn't my business. But now-"

"Frankie, what does that have to do with anything?"

"They're out for blood 'Licie. They don't care nothing about finding more information, they just want someone they can blame." His unintentionally projecting his aggression, and I was having a hard time blocking it out.

"But I…" It wasn't just his feelings that were invading now, I could feel the emotions of the few remaining occupants in the building. Having been rattled by the situation as I was, I was having difficulty keeping my mental shields in place.

"I know you ain't never hurt a fly, but they don't. They take one look at you, they won't even bother to keep lookin' for the actual suspect." He always did have a way of seeing the dancers in our class as innocent little girls, no matter how old we were.

"What makes you think they'd do that? I'm innocent, I have nothing to hide!" I knew the government was doing everything in its power to criminalize mutants, but had that gone as far as arresting them for crimes they did not commit if the situation proved convenient?

" I tried to kick 'em out when I saw it was you they were after. Said they didn't have the right to be on private property without a warrant. But they saw your name on the roster, and _bam_, probable cause for a search. Then I said I wasn't sure you were still here, and no one 'cept students and employees was allowed past the lobby. They told me to go get you, but I told them to get the hell out." He stopped, his expression suddenly turning to disgust. "Then one of 'em says 'You know what she is? A goddamned mutie. Do everyone a favor and help us get it off the street. If we can't kill it, the least we can do is make sure it never sees the light of day again.' I'd heard enough, said I'd go and get ya, and here I am."

"Frank…"

"You gotta get out of here, love." He said simply.

"I can't! Running is what someone guilty would do, and I didn't do anything." Why should I run? No, this could not be happening.

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Least you can do is give yourself a chance."

"If I talk to them I can prove my innocence." I'm a cute nineteen year old girl who doesn't look a day over fifteen.

"Still won't change the fact that you're a mutant." The guard grunted.

"They wouldn't arrest me because of that, they couldn't!" Surely they didn't think I was capable of kidnapping and murder.

"For someone as smart as you, you can be real dumb sometimes."

"Frankie!"

"It's true. Those cops out there don't give a damn about how cute you are, how young you are, or how naïve you are. But they will take advantage of _what_ you are if you let them." He gave a glance back towards the lobby. "So don't let them."

"What would I do if I did run?" I didn't like the idea, but I considered it for a moment.

"First thing you gotta do is loose the cell phone."

"What?" Okay, none of this made much sense to me, but what did my phone have to do with this?

"You have one, don't tell me you don't. That's how they found you." He said, as though it were common sense.

"I don't understand."

"All phones these days have GPS in 'em. All they gotta do is see who's name is on the voice mail and follow the signal. Which is why you gotta get rid of the thing. Don't you know nothing about running from the law?"

"Not really." But it did make me wonder what he did in his spare time.

"Alicia!" Frank's tone was sharp, he genuinely believed the only chance I had was to get away.

"Look, maybe I'll take my chances with the police. If I try to run, all I'm libel to do is hurt myself."

I was innocent. I had nothing to be afraid of.

Right, keep telling yourself that.

"Kid…" He was nearly pleading by now.

"I can use my dad's influence if I have to. The idea kind of leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but it's better than the alternative."

"You have no idea what these cops would do to you if they had the chance."

"Neither do you."

"I know how these guys think. I'm just like them."

"That's not true!" Frank was a good guy. Why else would he still be standing here trying to convince me to save myself? Anyone else would have turned my over without a second thought.

"It is. 'Cept I'm not about to hang anyone for bein' born with an advantage. 'Cause that what it is, and they're just afraid of what they don't understand. Kid, you have one advantage, and I'm trying to give you a head start to go with it. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, use it."

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Shaking my head, I let out the breath I wasn't aware I'd been holding and closed my eyes.

As if such a simple thing could keep me from seeing what was to come.

* * *

Should Alicia go with the cops or try running away? I've started writing out both possibilities, but I still don't know which direction to go in.

Any opinions?


	5. Rude Awakenings

Atkinco, thanks for the review! I'm glad to know someone out there is reading and enjoying this story. :D

Back again! With a start to the action, cannon characters by next chapter, and poor delusional Alicia trying to survive the mess she's gotten herself into. And quite a mess it is…

* * *

"I can't stall for much longer, I'm gonna have to tell them something." I had to give Frank credit for trying, but I knew even he couldn't delay things more than he already had.

"I'll talk to them." My heart was in my throat, and I was feeling a bit unsteady. Whether it was nerves or lack of food, I couldn't tell.

"You sure about this?" He asked, disbelieving.

No, I wasn't. But I was getting light headed and starting not to feel too well, so running wasn't really an option.

I nodded despite myself, and we started down the hall.

Frank muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'It's your funeral' but I choose to ignore that.

One look at the police officers, and every instinct I had was screaming at me to run. Approaching the two men as calmly as I could, I did everything I could to look as sweet and innocent as possible. It wasn't an act. After all, I had nothing to hide. At least nothing that concerned them.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

The taller of the two snorted, and started to reach for his handcuffs. The other looked down at the file he was holding, then looked up at me with something resembling fear.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney one will be appointed to you-"

"Wait, what are you arresting me for?" A funny thing happens when I find myself in bad situations. I become almost numb, and thoughts have a way of racing out of my mouth without my consent. Anything to gain the information needed to figure out exactly what is going on.

"For the kidnapping and murder of Shawn Lopez." The taller officer, and clearly the one in charge bit out.

"On what grounds?" My tone was equally as clipped.

"Your confession." Short declarative sentences seemed to be about all he could manage.

"What confession?" If he answered that with what I thought he was going to say…

"The one you gave when you called in that anonymous tip."

Not so anonymous after all I suppose.

"That wasn't a confession, I was trying to help! What is wrong with-"

"Alicia, help yourself and shut up." Frank said, even as he had made his way back to his station and had his hand on the phone.

"Smith, take care of him." He said, motioning the other officer towards the large security guard. "You" He grabbed my arms and twisted them behind me. He slapped on the handcuffs before I so much as registered what had happened. "Are coming with me."

"Wait, no!" I started to struggle, but stopped as soon as I started, as the edges of my vision started to fade to black. Looking up, I saw Frank give me a single shake of his head to tell me '_don't struggle, don't resist_'. I could hear his voice in my head, though I was certain he wasn't aware of it.

"Should I call for back up?" Smith had his hand on his gun, but he had yet to draw it from his pocket.

"That won't be necessary." The other lead officer fixed me with a glare. "Just make sure he doesn't talk."

"Right." He took a step closer to Frank.

'_I am so sorry Frankie, I never meant to get you involved.' _I thought to him, thinking how ironic it was that I had made the call that triggered all of this so I could absolve myself of the guilt I had from ignoring other visions.

He looked at me with wide eyes, but shook his head again. _'It's ok love. I can deal with this guy.'_

It would have to be good enough.

Without another word, he had taken hold of my arm with one hand, and grabbed my bag with the other. Dragging me out the door, he took me to the cruiser sitting by the curb un front of the building, and threw my unceremoniously into the back seat.

It may have been a few years since my high school government class, but I was sure this wasn't the way things were supposed to work.

"Aren't you supposed to take me down to the station and question me before pulling out the cuffs and Miranda Rights?" I asked through the metal grating that separated the front seat from the back seat.

"You were a threat."

Ah, yes. I could see how a girl who willingly came to talk to you and would have cooperated entirely if given the chance could be seen as a threat. Naturally.

"You may not have noticed, I was trying to cooperate. Last time I checked, citizens still had the right to be treated like human beings."

"You're not human, you don't have any rights."

Great. _This_ argument. Just my luck to be stuck with a guy who had that sort of mentality.

"You know, registration isn't law." I caught his eyes momentarily, reflected in the rear view mirror.

"It will be." He looked away quickly, as though meeting eyes with a mutant would cause him to turn to stone.

"Is that what this is about? Are you going to force me to register myself as a mutant?"

I had read the Mutant Registration proposal thoroughly, and devoured every bit of information I could possibly get on it. This was our future we were talking about here, and I knew as much about it as any regular person could.

This thing was scary.

I didn't want to give up my civil rights.

I didn't want to be legally registered as a lethal weapon.

I didn't want to officially dehumanize myself.

I just wanted to live my life, with as little complication as possible.

Too much to ask for in this day and age I suppose.

"You'll be lucky if that's all we make you do." He started the car and pulled away from the ballet. Keeping his glance straight ahead, he drove quickly and a bit recklessly. He was a man on a mission.

It was then that I came to several realizations, more or less simultaneously:

Frankie was right all along, I should never have thought I could talk my way out of something as serious as this.

There was something much bigger going on here. Although my fate may have been critically important to _me_, to most I was nothing but a pawn. The powers at be would not hesitate to use me as an example for… whatever it was they were doing.

Most importantly, and most frighteningly, I was in too deep to get of this out alone.


	6. Ch4 Fool Me Once

More reviews! I'm glad to see that Alicia's characterization is coming across the right way. Understanding the mindset is one thing, writing it is something else. So SeraphinaPiera, your review totally made my day. :D Tinkerballe2010 and NazqulQueen, thank you so much! More, as requested. ;)

I admit, this part is short. But as I was writing, I saw that I needed a transition between where I left off and the next chapter. So the next part starts with the action, as I kick myself into delving into the guts of this story. The question in my mind still remains, who will get to Alicia first?

* * *

"Hey! I think you passed the police station." I pressed my hands against the glass of the cruiser's window as we sped through South Beach, and onto the massive bridge that was the Macarthur Causeway.

The sun was setting in shades of deep purple, red and orange over the ocean, but for once the gorgeous view did nothing to remind me of just how beautiful the city I lived in was.

"We're not going to the police station." The officer picked up speed as he switched lanes and headed towards the turnpike.

"And why not?" I eyed the sign for I-95 North as we passed under it. The car was going in the opposite direction of where I lived, and heading further and further from familiar territory.

"We have a place set up for people like you."

If the City of Miami police had an official holding facility for mutants, I didn't know about it. Which probably meant wherever I was being taken was not an official facility.

Which also meant, in no uncertain terms, that I was screwed.

Nothing about how any of this had happened seemed right, in any sense of the word.

Where were the rest of the people in the building while I was being dragged away? Had they witnessed the scene and decided sneaking out the back door and not getting involved was the wisest course of action?

Smart people, I should have gone with them.

"You're not an actually a cop." It suddenly seemed obvious. It probably should have from the start, since none of the standard procedures had been followed. They had been a little too eager to handcuff me and get out of there.

Thank you common sense for kicking in about twenty minutes too late.

"Kinda slow, aren't you? "

Come on, give me a break. This was my first time in trouble with the law, first time being kidnapped, first time in a situation even remotely as strange as this.

Not usually what one thought of when referring to their first time, but I didn't feel like being picky.

"Not slow, just too trusting and naïve. I won't be making the mistake again."

I took a closer look at the guy who was quickly becoming my least favorite person. He was fairly young, probably in his late twenties. Dark complexion with close cut black hair. Not too bad looking really.

"Like what you see?" I should have figured he'd be cocky.

"No, just making sure I get every detail of what you look like, so I can describe you when I get to the _real_ police." Because they'd be so eager to help me, right? One criminal turning in another. Set up a plea bargain… for a crime I didn't commit. Right Alicia. You go on ahead and do that.

"They wouldn't be any help to you. Far as I can see, we can help you more than they can." Because this guy obviously made a living by helping mutants and damsels in distress. Who did he think he was, an X-man?

Yeah, right. For some odd reason I doubted that.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" It would take a lot of convincing before I thought this guy was a decent person. Even if I had thought he might be… you know, before I met him. I had made the mistake of thinking all people could be reasoned with. Well fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

"It doesn't mean much. But we have one thing they don't."

"Only one?"

"Don't get cute. Only one thing that counts." And he wanted to share? How kind.

I did not want to know. I did _not_ want to know. I had to ask.

"What's that?"

"The cure." He said, as though it were the answer to my prayers.

"The cure is gone. " He had to be bluffing. Everyone knew the cure was a thing of the rather recent past.

"Sure it is." The grin on his face made my skin crawl.

"What if I don't want the cure?" I had given it thought when it was actually available. All of two seconds, before deciding I had better ways to deal with it.

"Sorry girl, you don't get a say."

A thick glass shield slid across the metal grating that already separated the front and back sections of the car. The small suctioning sound it made as it fit into place made it obvious that the partition was air tight.

I only had a moment to panic before some sort of gas started to pour through the air vents. It only took seconds before the world blurred and spun around me. I was unconscious less than a minute later, barreling further and further away from everything I knew.


End file.
